


Birthday Girl

by xCake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 23:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20732411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xCake/pseuds/xCake
Summary: Steve has a little crush.[ Steve x Reader ]





	Birthday Girl

You were always there for Steve.

When he woke up after being in the ice, you were the one to explain where he was and what happened to Hydra. Having been assigned to assist him in adjusting to modern society, you helped with anything you thought he might need to know, be it opening a new bank account, paying bills online, learning how to use a smartphone, or even every now and then bringing him some groceries.

The adjustment was tough, but you were there for him every step of the way – so of course it was no wonder that he fell for you. He’d been so caught up in the misery of lost time and friends that he never really realized what he was missing until it blindsided him one day.

Your birthday.

It was a small affair, with just about everyone away on missions save for him and Natasha, your best friend – because why wouldn’t she request the day off? Steve had started to befriend her, too, but tensions were still high after the Battle of New York and she didn’t trust easily. Quite the opposite, you trusted entirely too easily and he always wondered how you managed to live life so optimistically, so unscathed despite your line of work. It couldn’t have been easy.

There weren’t any presents, and there wasn’t a cake, but there was a bottle of champagne that Natasha brought along for you.

Conversation flowed freely into the evening, with Netflix playing on the TV in the background. Every time Steve popped ‘round the open plan kitchen and living area, there you were, chatting animatedly with your best friend – and every time, your words slurred just a little more.

He thought it was cute.

Sometimes, you stopped mid-sentence to ask him something. It might have been an attempt to get him to join in on the discussion, but he never stayed for more than a couple of minutes, not wanting to impose. Other times, you were way too involved in the conversation to even notice he was there. It wasn’t that he wanted an invitation to spend time with you, except, well, he did, and the knowing look Natasha shot in his direction made him nervous.

That was probably why, when he popped by for the fourth time – the first was for a snack, the second a post-workout shake, the third to heat up leftovers, and the fourth, well, he had no excuse – Natasha was nowhere to be seen. It was just you, lounging on the sofa, completely absorbed in whatever was on TV. A war documentary, by the looks of it. Not that he was paying much attention.

Within a couple of moments, you seemed to realize that he was there – and when you glanced over at him, you gave him the brightest smile he’d ever seen. 

_That_ was what blindsided him, your gorgeous smile. You always radiated positivity, made his days in modern society a little less bleak.

“What’s up, Stevie?”

The way you said his nickname so easily made his heart skip a beat. He tried to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks, but it didn’t work. 

“Just wondering what the birthday girl’s watching,” he responded, nodding over to the TV.

“It’s a documentary about World War Two,” you said, words not slurring nearly as much as they had been earlier. You must have started to sober up. “I wanted to see what life was like back then.”

The question was out of his mouth before he even realized it. “Why?”

“So I can help you better,” you told him, offering a nonchalant shrug. 

Steve was floored by your answer. It was your birthday, but you were more concerned about helping him than anything else. “But it’s… it’s your birthday, doll.”

That was when you gave him another one of those radiant smiles, and pat the spot on the sofa next to you. “Come celebrate with me, then.”

He was hesitant, almost unsure as he settled in beside you – but then you pulled his arm around your shoulders like it was a common, everyday thing for you to cuddle with him like this. It absolutely wasn’t, and he couldn’t help but tense up a little. He’d never been so close to you before. In fact, he’d never really been so close to _any_ woman before aside from Peggy, but that ship had long since sailed.

The feeling of your delicate shoulders under his arm and the warmth of your small body pressed into his side made his heart race.

“Is this okay?” you asked, then, looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes of yours.

Of course it was. It was beyond okay.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

At that, you snuggled a little more into him and turned your attention back to the TV. He, of course, found himself not watching the documentary, but you. He found himself wanting to stroke your hair and press a kiss to the crown of your head; found himself wanting to take care of you like you’d always done for him.

After a few minutes, you spoke quietly, “Hey, Stevie?”

He glanced down at you. “Yeah, doll?”

You shifted to look up at him, worrying your lower lip in between your teeth. His eyes dropped to your lips for a moment, but they snapped back up to yours when you admitted, “There is one thing I want for my birthday.”

The way you were looking at him made his throat go dry. “What’s that?”

You were intoxicating. The sweet scent of your shampoo was already irresistible, but what’s more was the knowledge that you trusted him. You let your guard down around him, and now you were so open and warm and vulnerable that he found it hard to breathe, let alone think – especially when you leaned up just a little to bring your lips to his, soft, gentle, like you were expecting him to push you away.

He didn’t.

Instead his free hand came up to cup your cheek, and with it he pulled you closer. There was a certain desperation in the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, like you were his lifeline and you couldn’t help but release a soft hum of appreciation, one quickly muffled by his mouth on yours.

Steve Rogers might not have had much experience, but _damn_ if he didn't try his best.

Then he realized what was happening and broke away, breaths coming out short and heavy as he met your eyes again, awestruck.

You kissed him.

You _kissed_ him.

“I’m sorry,” you started to say, “I’m sorry, Steve, I shouldn’t have—”

But he was already pulling you back in for more, his lips on yours again, hot and wanting and far less innocent than the first kiss had been. Months of pent-up frustration seeped into it – frustration that he hadn’t even realized he even _had _until tonight, but it quickly became apparent that he’d been carrying a torch for you for just as long.

When the two of you finally broke away for air, he caught you looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, and kiss-swollen lips and _god_, you were gorgeous. In that moment, he pulled you in to bury his face into your hair just like he’d been wanting to do all night.

It may have been your birthday, but it sure felt like it was his.


End file.
